The Demise Of Rachel Amber
by AnxiousFaerie
Summary: This is the story of how Rachel Amber ceased to be.


**A/N: I've always been curious about what Rachel's personality was like. All we get throughout the game was Chloe's recounts, Joyce calling her a hell-raiser, the graffiti around Blackwell, and the small bits we learn from talking to other students. My memory on the details might be a bit fuzzy, so forgive me if I make a few mistakes.**

Rachel's chest depressed slightly as she blew out the last puff of smoke from her cigarette. She tossed it behind her as she headed back into the party, somewhat dizzily. She'd been drinking, of course, but after years of doing so she knew her limit. She was fine. She pushed open the door to the party with her body weight, and instantly pulsing lights and loud bass nearly overpowered her senses. Rachel mingled around for a bit – she was known for being friends with nearly everyone, and prided herself on that.

She unscrewed her flask – she was only planning on drinking the spiked punch after she'd depleted her own personal supply; she didn't find their alcohol strong enough for her, or her liking. Rachel took a deep swing, far past the need for chasers. She tossed the left side of her hair over her shoulder, her long blue earring swinging. She was on the lookout for something stronger now, and she knew who she had to track down to get some. Rachel made her way to the VIP area, greeting Victoria who was apparently guarding the entrance at the moment.

"Hey!" She said enthusiastically. Victoria and Rachel had never been the best of friends, but since Rachel got along well with Taylor and Dana, she was tolerated.

"Hi, Rachel," Victoria said sharply, glancing her up and down. "You want back, I assume?"

Rachel gave a sly smile. "If I could, yes."

"Ugh," Was Victoria's reply, but the curtain was still pulled back and Rachel was allowed back.

Her eyes squinted through the lights, looking for Nathan. She took the occasional sip from her flask as she searched – Rachel knew she should slow down a bit, at least for the time being. "Nathan!" She called, once spotting him. He didn't reply, or just didn't hear her. Instead he was sitting with his legs spread, elbows resting on his knees, and his hands were clasped. He looked nervous, and his eyes were searching the room. Rachel chalked it up to him being on maybe too much of a drug, or maybe his father yelled at him? Everyone knew Mr. Prescott had a temper.

She grabbed an empty folding chair and dragged it next to him, sitting down a bit too hard, smiling.

"I've been looking for you," she said. Nathan's eyes widened with – what? Fear? Surprise? Anxiety? Rachel couldn't put her finger on it, but this wasn't this first time she'd seen Nathan acting strange at a party.

"Oh yeah?" He asked. "What do you need?"

Rachel shrugged. "What'cha got?" She asked bluntly. She'd tried nearly every drug in Arcadia, and tonight she wasn't feeling too picky. He fumbled with something in the pocket of the letterman jacket he never seemed to take off.

"I got somethin' for ya. Yeah. Just for you," he said, standing up with nervous energy. Rachel's eyebrows furrowed slightly; she started to get a weird feeling in her gut, but brushed it off. She just drank too much too quickly is all.

"C'mon. I need you to follow me, though." Nathan said, heading towards a darkly lit doorway Rachel hadn't noticed before.

"Um. Okay." She picked up her pace to keep up with Nathan; the doorway wasn't too far from everyone. How had she missed it before? Nathan turned the handle and pushed the door open with too much force. Rachel assumed he was on cocaine; she'd done her fair share, and acted in a similar manner while on it. It wasn't the brightest place she'd been in, but she wasn't about to complain. The main focus of the room was a bare and dingy old mattress; on either side were two bedside lamps. Rachel figured this was where the heroin junkies came to party.

"So, you ever use needles?" Nathan asked. Rachel's back was facing him; she was still taking in the room.

"No," she said, but shrugged. "But I'm not afraid."

"Good," Nathan said, and the tone of his voice made Rachel turn to face him, eyes wide. He was advancing towards her, pulling a syringe full of a mysterious liquid in it out of his pocket.

"You wanna let me know what that is before I take it?" She asked, raising her hands slightly, partly in defense and partly out of regret. She'd bought tons of drugs from him – besides Frank, he was her main guy.

Nathan didn't answer. He took two more long strides before reaching her, grabbed and holding her wrists together with one hand and stabbing the syringe deep into her neck, depressing the plunger until there was nothing left in it. He ripped it out of her neck too roughly. "What…what did you do…?" she mumbled out. Rachel didn't know this feeling. She didn't know this drug, and automatically knew she should've listened to her initial gut instinct. This wasn't good. And it was too much.

"I'm going to make Jefferson proud. That's what I did." Nathan's face was a mixture of smugness and satisfaction.

But Rachel couldn't answer. Her eyelids grew heavy, and her arms and legs turned to lead. Her vertigo was off the charts. She managed to take a few steps backwards, the back of her knees hitting the edge of the mattress. Rachel fell back, almost dead weight at this point. Her hair fanned out when she landed on the mattress, and her thoughts were simultaneously racing and nonsensical. She felt her heart flutter, and her breathing grew ragged. Rachel had never been so scared in her life. Her vision doubled, and before she lost consciousness the last thing her brain registered besides the pure terror was seeing Nathan stalking towards her, a roll of duct tape in one hand and a bundle of zip ties in the other.


End file.
